


What Friends are For

by HuntsCunt



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Friendship, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21864274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuntsCunt/pseuds/HuntsCunt
Summary: Lando can't stand seeing Charles and Daniel together after their summer trip to Vegas. Max steps in to comfort him.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc/Lando Norris, Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen
Kudos: 79





	What Friends are For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noblydonedonnanoble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/gifts).

> Dedicated to my friends, of course, who I am also lucky to have. Also, what else is there to do on the off season but use fanfic to deal with my personal feelings?

Lando glanced around the drivers’ briefing, chairs lined up in rows like a school lecture. Like always, he was one of the first ones to arrive, always wanting to get a head start, a jump on everything. Wanted to feel settled and always show that, though only nineteen, though coming from money, he deserved to be there as much as any of the other drivers. As he looked to see who was entering, he felt a weight in the chair next to him and turned to see Max, the Dutchman also always punctual.

“Ready for the race this weekend?” Max asked jovially, slapping Lando’s knee. “Nervous for your first night race?”

Lando returned Max’s smile, elbowing him, “I’ve had plenty of practice staying up all night racing with you, so I think I’ll be alright,” he replied, continuing to glance around.

There, he finally spotted him. Charles. The handsome Monegasque entered the room, frowning with concentration, finding a seat next to Pierre. Lando tried not to stare, but he could never not look, Charles’ penetrating eyes, his beautiful cheek bones, his determined expression.

The stare did not go unnoticed by Max, but he already suspected his friend’s feelings. Max relaxed back into his seat, waiting for the meeting to start. The sooner it started, the sooner it would be over. These meetings were always nonsense anyway. They were all professionals; they all knew the rules. What was the point of sitting around discussing them? Just penalize them or don’t.

Out of the side of his eye, he noticed Lando’s smile turn into a deep frown – an expression not often seen on the young Brit’s face. He turned to see what had caused the change, only to find himself frowning as well. Daniel had plopped down next to Charles, joking, smiling, poking him the ribs. At that moment, he knew exactly how Lando felt.

“It’s not worth it, you know,” Max whispered softly. “Getting upset. Shut the door and focus on racing. Everything else is just a distraction.” That last sentence had been repeated to him often enough throughout his childhood. Be one with your car, a machine, made to do one thing – drive fast.

Lando turned back to Max and gave him a little half smile, his eyebrow’s raised. “You know that’s not me.” He was going to continue, but the meeting was about to begin. Carlos, late as always, swiftly sat next to Lando, blocking his view of the Ferrari driver. _Probably for the best_, thought Lando. _Now, I can concentrate_.

***

Lando was filled with elation during the flight home from Singapore. P7, best of the rest, his first time racing on the Asian circuit! All of the bad luck he had had since summer break seemed to be dissipating; finally, something was going right for him. Maybe things were going to be getting better, and he could get out of this funk and back to his old self. Ever since the heartbreaking week at Spa, losing Anthoine, his engine failure on the last lap, finding out that Charles had gone to Vegas with Daniel, he had spiraled into teenage angst. But didn’t he have the right to? He was still a teenager, after all, with raging hormones and an unfinished brain. Depression was his right, or something like that.

But Singapore! That turned everything around, and he felt lighter as he exited the plane. He gave his father and brother a hug as they picked him up at the airport, both of them delighted at his great result, praising his race craft, and telling him all about the dinner his mum was making for him at home.

He collapsed into the back of the car, exhausted, turning his phone on to see what everyone was up to. He got to Charles’ Instagram, and his stomach dropped. He and Daniel were playing pranks on each other on the flight back home. _Fuck, why I don’t live in Monaco?_ he thought, angrily dropping his phone on the car floor. _Then, I could be on that flight, with them. With _him. Lando loved his family, loved England, but he knew that living across the channel was not going to help him get Charles’s attention. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

After a pleasant dinner with his family, celebrating a good result, pushing away his dark thoughts, and filling himself with his mum’s pot roast, he went upstairs and got on his sim.

He messaged Max, _Want to race? _and waited for a response.

It felt like hours but was probably only fifteen minutes. Finally, he saw Max get online.

Max was no idiot, though. He had seen the Instagram post, too, and Lando’s message just confirmed what he thought his friend needed.

_Do you actually want to race, or do you want to talk?_

Lando sighed, annoyed at Max’s insight while simultaneously grateful that he knew him so well.

_No, but yes._

Lando’s phone rang, and he answered, putting Max on video chat.

“Hey, mate,” Max greeted him soberly. “So you saw the video?”

Lando hesitated, not quite knowing where to begin, overwhelmed with feelings. “I just don’t know what’s happening. Why do I feel like this? Why does this hurt so much?” Tears began to fill Lando’s eyes.

“I understand how you feel,” Max consoled. “You _know_ I do.”

“How are you so ok?” Lando was visibly shaking now. “Charles, he doesn’t even know I’m there. We’ve never been anything. You and Daniel…”

“Yeah, me and Daniel. We did it, we tried it, it didn’t work out. It blew up in our faces and then he fucked off to that French shitshow. His loss.” Max smirked a little, trying to push down the disappointment and sadness he felt thinking about that time. “But yeah, I don’t like seeing him with Charles. First, he steals my wins, then, he steals my…I don’t know. Whatever Daniel is to me now.”

“Right! You have every right to be jealous. What do I have? I am nothing to him, and he is nothing to me.” Lando wiped the tears off his cheeks, hoping Max didn’t notice how many there were.

“Lando, look at me,” Max commanded. He might only be two years older than Lando, but he often felt like he was ten. Lando reluctantly lifted his head. “Charles is...he’s potential. What you want, but also what you want to be. Where you want to be. Now, that's gone.”

Max had called him out. And hearing the truth, it hurt more than he could bear, and all of the sudden, he was freely sobbing into his hands, the kind of ugly crying that only comes from the deepest levels of grief and insecurity. “What if I’m not enough?” Lando gasped between sobs. “What if I’m not good enough to get that drive, to get love? What if I don’t deserve it, and I’m just here because of luck and money?”

“Shut up, mate.” Max’s voice was both rough and loving. “First of all, we’re all just here because of some combination of luck, money, and head trauma, so let that go. Second, you deserve to be in Formula 1. You are the youngest driver on the grid, and yet you’re clearly head and shoulders above most the field. And you are a good man and a good friend. Anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“But look at Daniel! I can’t be him! He’s charming, and handsome, and a multiple Grand Prix winner!”

“Oh, fuck Daniel. He’s not that great – trust me, I would know. Plus, he has ten plus years on you. You will get there, and you won't fuck it up royally like he has. Trust me, mate, we will be fighting for championships. And maybe you won’t ever be with Charles, not in the way you want to, but maybe you will. Probably, you’ll end up dating in five years and realize he’s a boring wanker with a pretty face.”

Lando laughed a little at Max’s comment. “Maybe you’re right,” he said, pulling himself together. “And who the fuck knows if they’re even dating? For all we know, Charles is straight, which would be my luck.”

“There’s the spirit. If you can’t have him, no one can.”

“Max, I’m sorry. I know this fucking sucks for you, too. Thanks for talking with me.”

“Hey, it’s your turn next time. And anyway, what are friends for?”

Lando smiled at Max.

Max returned his smile, saying, “Now that that’s done, you want to get your ass kicked in FIFA?”

“You’re on.”


End file.
